This can't go on. The silence of the yard has been ruined by Ciușu the Donkey. All day long, hee-haw, hee-haw, he's out there braying. Ciușu's mom and dad, you have to do something. Dear neighbours, we appeal to your understanding. Ciușu is building a ladder these days. Yes, a ladder. His grandmother told him that, if we miss someone who has passed away, our songs are like a ladder on which we send our hugs to the other world. His grandmother passed away last month, and our Ciușu misses her dearly.
Cristina Daniela Dumitru-Pascal
She had raised the triplets on her own. Two jobs, sleepless nights, one in her arms, one toddler, the other beside her. When they went out in the city, they would sit in order of height, with her always first. The years passed. They grew. She shrank. It seemed like she was getting closer to the ground. They had come for her birthday, as they did every year, and went for a walk. You first, the boys said. But I'm no longer the tallest. We'll fix that. The oldest picked her up, the middle one bent over backwards, and the youngest crouched down for the dwarf's step. Mom, you are our sky.
Cecilia Fofiu
He baptized him 'Țuțu' as soon as he saw him in the hay nest made by Grandpa. He visits him often. In fact, he would stay there forever, stroking his floppy ears and fluffy forehead. He's a little afraid of his mother's snoring, even though she knows him and has carried him on her back. Now, she seems a bit more grumpy. He lays down a little blanket and carefully snuggles next to Țuțu. He whispers into his damp muzzle about how they will grow up together, and how Grandpa will make that promised ladder that will take all three of them up, to the sky, to visit his mommy. So that Țuțu can meet her too.
(Translated by Miruna Baicu / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.